


Savior

by HarlowFuan



Category: Dragon Ball
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:11:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5348651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarlowFuan/pseuds/HarlowFuan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Savior" is set in the Future Timeline during the Androids' reign of terror. The post-apocalyptic time is tough and it is hard for Bulma to overcome the severe loneliness due to the many losses of her loved ones, especially Vegeta. She is on the verge of a mental breakdown until she finds solace in Trunks's handsome mentor, Gohan. Though the training regimens are supposed to remain secret, Bulma and Gohan develop a steamy secret of their own. [COMPLETE]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer:
> 
> I do not own, nor am I affiliated with Dragonball Z or any of their owners in anyway. I have written this story strictly for entertainment purposes only, and I do not gain any form of profit from my work. I am simply a HUGE fan with a very different imagination that is just begging to be expressed. Nothing more. Thank you!
> 
> Author's Notes: Please read before continuing.  
> -This story is very heavy with lemon/explicit sex scenes. The coupling is Gohan and Bulma, so if you are not comfortable with this type of work, PLEASE DO NOT READ. This is not the story for you.  
> -In regards to this story - this mostly fits with the story line of "History of Trunks". I made a couple of small tweaks to the plot to make room for a possible sequel that I am only THINKING about. I do not know yet it if will occur, though, as I am not too crazy about the idea. I do know that "Savior" is only 4 chapters long.  
> -This story is darker in comparison to what I originally write, and it can be a tear-jerker to some readers.  
> If this all sounds like your cup of tea, read on! Reviews are welcome and greatly appreciated! Thank you all so much for reading!

Why had she subjected herself to such hurt and pain all over again?

Bulma Briefs was such an old woman in comparison to the only hope that their world had. The scenes in which they had all witnessed were much more traumatic than any apocalyptic movie could ever depict. Women, men, children, animals, all living things falling victim one by one to those bastard Androids whose only motives were to destroy and dominate. Once this was accomplished, what then? The horrifying possibilities continued to leave her trembling thirteen years later.

Her life was falling apart as she knew it; the only question was just how long she could hold her strong front before she faced an emotional collapse. The years have grown long and torturous with each day that the sun would continue to rise, for it was an addition that separated her further from the last time she received such affection; she had never believed that she would miss the animalistic ways of Vegeta’s ‘love-making’, though he had always ensured that she would never leave their bed with a trace of energy. Despite their frequent, yet vicious ‘mating rituals’ as he had called them, there was no hope of moving past his untimely death. She could not have done so even in her strongest attempt to carry on; Bulma had missed Vegeta horribly, and this grief had only left her open and vulnerable.

She was very much aware of the emotions that tested each and every part of what little sanity she had left. The pain would only continue to degenerate her being, as she was lonely in every aspect; the only other survivors left in West City were her darling son, Trunks, and Goku’s eldest son, Gohan; she had gasped when his face had entered her mind. She was ashamed to think of him in such ways that she had. Perhaps it was the fact that there was no other living man within a one hundred mile radius from (what was left of) the Capsule Corporation. Or maybe he had reminded her of Vegeta due to his strong will to defeat the Androids... something she deeply admired and craved.

Bulma scoffed at her thoughts as she had finished sweeping the kitchen’s tiled floor; what did it matter? Who would stop her from feeling the way she did? She had nothing to lose anymore. “Trunks,” she had called out to the boy who was simply staring at the beautiful Oceanside through the window. “I need a favor, sweetie.”

“Yes, mother?”

“Do you think you can try to find a grocery store and scout for some supplies for me?” She lifted a small piece of paper with a list of needed items.

“Why?” He had raised an eyebrow.

“A half-saiyan teenager is much faster than my car,” she urged her lips to press into the strongest smile that she could muster. “It’s only for a few things.”

“Sure… I guess,” he shrugged. The clueless expression he had given reminded her so much of Vegeta, which only proved the adoration of her son to be difficult. She could not look at the similarities, as she did not need another reason for her inevitable breakdown. Her son had walked to her and had retrieved the list that Bulma had handed in his direction. “Mother, are you feeling all right?”

“What do you mean?” She continued to wear the fake smile.

“You’re acting off today…” it was clear that her son was worried about her.

“Oh, Trunks, I’m fine.” She weakly shook her head and brushed off his concern. “Hurry back; try to return before dark.”

“All right. I will be right back!”

And he was gone; she could not believe that he actually did what he was told. Knowing that she could not hold her emotions in for any longer, her body had slid to the freshly-cleaned floor beneath her and she began to sob. She held her knees close to her face to quiet her uncontrollable cries.

Bulma Briefs would have given anything just to have one more day with all of her friends and family; she envied her previous life, where money had not mattered and she was not forced into an existence of fear and heart-stopping terror. Her parents, bless their souls; her mother had died shortly after Goku succumbed to his heart virus and her father had passed away just recently. This had forced her to be the crutch when Trunks would become weak; who would be there when _she_ needed comfort? Her friends, colleagues, fellow superiors, all were wiped away without any effort on the Androids’ parts. The world was on the brink of extinction; she was to die as a lonely woman. Whether her fate would involve natural causes like her parents or at the hands of these monsters, this was still up for debate.

For so long she had held herself together for the sake of her only child, but she could not do so any longer. With her fame and riches, she wished to give him the world and everything in it. Instead, his upbringing solely depended on survival. Their future should not have been this way. There was no greater pain than knowing that Trunks had no memory of his father, even if Vegeta was proud and arrogant to the point where nobody wished to be around him. All he could possess of him was memories from others.

She had continued to lie on the floor for the better part of an hour. She was surprised that she remained as strong as she did for as long as she did. Oh, sweet Kami. The tears had never stopped and she did not want them to; it was her expectation to release all that she had felt until she was able to pull herself together and be the strong woman that she once was.

“Oh, shit. Bulma!?”

For just the tiniest part of a second, every muscle in her body had encased in ice at the sound of his voice. Before Gohan was kneeling beside her, she had sat up and made a desperate attempt to wipe all of the wetness from her eyes away. A normal appearance was futile. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”

“You’re crying.”

She dared not look into his features. “Gohan, you have enough on your shoulders; you do not need to see me like this.” Bulma was then enveloped in his strong scent, for he had wrapped his arms tightly around her. She could not bring herself to fight against his hold, as she knew that she would not win. Instead, she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes as she allowed herself to melt against his body. The sound of his strong heartbeat had comforted her to a large degree; she had not been held like this in over a decade.

“Are you hurt?” His soothing voice had vibrated from his chest and against her ear. He was such a beautiful person inside and out just like his father. This would be the first and likely last time that she would be able to feel his hold onto her body.

“No,” Bulma shook her head.

“Good…” After he stood, he pulled her to his level with ease. He had taken her into another hug and rested his chin against her hairline. His hands, hardened and callused, had embraced the small of her back in such a comforting manner. Sweet Gods, his touch was so addicting. “Everything is going to be all right…”

“I hope so…” she trailed off as she felt a couple of his fingers creep just beneath her shoulders.

“Bulma, of course it will!” He cupped her chin for his eyes to meet hers. “I’m going to destroy the fuckers who did this to our world. You’ll see.”

“I never had the first doubt.” She was not lying; it was simply difficult coping with all of these losses with no end in sight. When he revealed a confident smile, her gaze had fixed onto his lips. “I’m sorry… I just started thinking for a moment.”

“Be strong.” His tone had returned to a soft velvet state, as he was aware of where her gaze had lied. One fact was certain for Gohan; Bulma had never lost the first thread of her beauty as she aged. “Change is coming. Trust me.”

She released a shaking breath. “I trust you.” It was then that she realized Gohan had never let go of her; neither did her gaze break away from his lips. “This is a lot to deal with, even after thirteen years.”

“We all get weak at times, Bulma. It’s a part of humanity,” his voice had lowered to a murmur. She was not sure if she was hallucinating or if Gohan’s lips were slowly inching toward her face. Why did he have to be so beautiful? “As long as I’m here, you will always be safe.”

“You and Trunks are all I have left.” The vision of his perfect lips had blurred, for tears had welled in her eyes. “Please don’t leave me.”

“Never…” His lips had brushed lightly against hers. Though it was only for a moment, she was overwhelmed with the beautiful feeling that she had been deprived from for so long. _Holy shit._ When she gasped at the kiss, Gohan’s face had immediately parted from hers. “I’m so sorry. I was not thi—“ She placed her hand on tzhe back of his head and closed the gap between them once more. Gohan could not have been any more surprised at her move, for he had stumbled backwards at Bulma’s impact; he had absorbed the imminent stumble backwards by landing against the large refrigerator behind him. He had taken this woman into his arms and had devoured her in powerful, hungry embraces.

Without any warning, he gripped and clawed each and every article of her clothing without any grace, as he was desperate to explore these forbidden boundaries so much more. His clothing, too, was quickly taken from him by her long, curious fingers; his arousal had risen to newer heights as she, too, repeatedly pressed her lips amongst random spots of his throat and jaw line. Normally, he would have never done this with a woman whose role was similar to his mother, though it was not helping the newly-risen situation that she was his first crush when he was a boy. So much need for her had tortured him in the worst of ways, especially as of late; it was time to bring his underlying fantasies to life. It was then that Gohan grasped onto her hips to support her body and he carried her to her bedroom.

* * *

 

He had wasted no time with foreplay. It was underneath her large, pale blanket atop her soft, plush bed where he had claimed her as his own. Bulma would eventually wish to receive dominance in the wake of their new affair, though Gohan would enjoy her on his terms for the time being; to her benefit, his enjoyment was her pleasure.

The encounter had been painful for her initially, yet she soon she was one with the waves of the many emotions of their lovemaking. Her weight was on her stomach and he had rocked against her velvet skin atop her. His breathy moans met her ear as he thrusted every inch of him inside of her at such a slow, passionate pace. Her nails had clawed at her bed while her bite on her large pillow had suffocated her ecstasy. “Come on,” he encouraged the release of her building madness. She had squirmed beneath him and begged in frustration for his pace to quicken, yet his only reply was a tender kiss to the nape of her neck. The quiet sound of her nails scratching at the material beneath him had only proven that he was close to what he was wishing for. He was holding back for a purpose, and it was for her to know that he would be the last man to consume her with such pleasure and euphoria, no matter the end result of their world.

“Gohan…” She trembled beneath him and he smiled; she was almost there. He gripped her long, messy hair and gently tugged it to the side to nibble on the lobe of her ear; his other hand had found a ripe, hardened mound of her breast and he tweaked the skin aggressively. “Gohan!” she forced her tired body to buck wildly against his length as her peak had finally been reached. The man atop her had smiled in victory just as he had finally fulfilled her wish to quicken the pace. He had finally allowed himself to lose control and drown in his own bliss of her beautiful body; her loud, suffocated cries of approval, the prolonging of her climax, had been the thread that ultimately broke in the effort to reach his end. As his hands and fingers had laced with hers tightly, his pace was quick and powerful. Bulma’s throat uttered equally quick cries at this, and he, too, was lost with her; his lungs inhaled with a quick gasp for he had erupted deep inside of her. Though he was quiet of this occurrence, his breath was trembled with the remainder of his body. Oh, thank Kami.

He lifted his weight to his shaking thighs for the only purpose of turning Bulma’s barely conscious body to face him. He had collapsed, with his large, bulky shoulders shielding hers, as his teeth had bitten her lower lip before he continued to embrace the lining of her jaw. “You should rest,” he whispered.

“I can’t; Trunks will be home soon,” Bulma breathed.

“Don’t worry. I will keep him busy.”

She did not attempt to argue; Gohan could maintain a much stronger front than she after such an encounter. They shared a long embrace of their lipsbefore Gohan had released her from his hold. He had left the bed and retrieved his clothes with ease; Bulma had watched his naked body soon become draped with the same material that she so eagerly removed. Each of his muscles were enhanced with much more detail than the average man; such detail that she could easily indulge in again. Her lids had grown heavy, with sleep coming for her, and her last vision was of his softened stare in her direction.

His timing was perfect, for when he had left her behind, Trunks had appeared through the front door. “Mom? I’m home!”

“She’s asleep,” Gohan’s tone was as soft as his features.

“Gohan! I’m glad to see you!” He had placed a small bag of supplies onto the island countertop and flashed a smile.

“Likewise,” He looked in the direction of Bulma’s bedroom before he had turned to the young teenage boy in front of him. “Are you ready to train?”

“Am I ever!”

“Come on,” Gohan placed him in a headlock and rubbed his free fist into his hair line. “We have a lot to cover.” And the two had left the Capsule Corporation.

* * *

 

What can we do to be together?  
Is there any chance?  
Do we have to die for love or do we love to die?  
Will there be a better life in the land so far away?  
Is there a place for you and me?  
Will we feel our love again?  
-Blutengel, “Any Chance”


	2. Chapter Two

Bulma kneaded her fingers through her messy, wild hair as she had awakened from the deep, peaceful slumber. _Shit_ ; how long had she slept? Leaping from her bed in a panic, she was immediately relieved to see the sun’s rays brightly shining through her broken window. The memories had recollected themselves and invaded her thoughts into how she had fallen asleep to begin with. She rubbed with subtle pressure against her forehead; Holy Kami, she had done the unthinkable.

Once she realized that she was still naked, she tiptoed to her closet and chose another outfit to wear; a grey shirt with a pair of sweatpants of a darker shade. After she had lit a cigarette, she had then remembered Trunks and the outing she had sent him for and she walked to the kitchen in haste. Her supplies had greeted her on the island countertop; certain products of produce and two cartons of cigarettes. She had smiled greedily when she returned the small boxes to the top drawer of her dresser. Her hands had shaken as the smell of their sex filled her nose; Bulma refused to think of what she had done. She would not attach herself to him, for she could not handle a heartbreak for the third time.

To busy her mind, she immediately took the steps to prepare for dinner. It was likely that Trunks was out with Gohan; what were those two up to? Almost every day, Gohan would visit and Trunks would leave with him for hours at a time. If he was secretly training her son to battle against the androids, she would have a ransom for his head… who was she kidding? Trunks was as stubborn as both herself and Vegeta; there was no stopping him if his mind would fix on a goal.

Bulma aggressively opened the package of rice and poured the contents in the boiling water to cook; of course, she would make a mess. Fuck it. She continued to prepare a large pot of steamed vegetables and eventually moved on to the main course. She always ensured to make enough food to feed an army with Vegeta around, and Trunks when he became older, yet she never broke this habit after Vegeta’s passing. She would never forget his reaction to Goku’s death and the reminder that the dragonballs were useless in his revival. If her ‘husband’ was alive and he knew of what she had done… Shit, her thoughts were slipping again.

After all of her choices were cooked to perfection, she transitioned the delectable food to the serving plates and placed them on the table accordingly. In the midst of this, she heard the front door open and shut, followed with sounds of excited chatters from her son. “Mom, can Gohan stay for dinner?”

_Fuck_. “Of course!” No matter how awkward the atmosphere would be, she must keep herself together for the sake of her son. She retrieved three plates and the appropriate silverware and set the table.

“Hey Bulma!” His beautiful voice rung through her ears. “Smells delicious!”

She gasped at the greeting and the compliment, but it was not noticed by either of the males who sat at the table and instantly helped themselves to the food. “What did you two do all afternoon?” She had asked as she retrieved three drinking glasses and placed a large pitcher of iced tea onto the table.

“Sightseeing!” Trunks answered between bites.

“Sounds like fun!” She entertained their lie as she finally sat down at the far end of the table, across from Gohan and poured herself a glass of tea and sipped to ensure a good taste. After she prepared herself a plate, she ate quietly and silently without any interruption. So far, this was going well; she was blessed to know that Gohan had acted as though nothing happened.

Not a single word was spoken for the remainder of dinner. She had finally stood to collect dishes for washing before retreating to the large sink. She filled both stainless steel basins half full of water and applied soap to the section in front of her.

“Would you like some help?”

Her breathing had ceased at the sound of his voice; she dared not wait too long to respond. “If you would like.”

“It’s the least I can do after such a delicious meal!” He grinned from ear to ear as he appeared beside her with the remainder of the dishes. In silence, Bulma had rubbed the dirt away from each of the dishes and handed them to Gohan for rinsing. “How was your nap?” He asked. The question had seemed genuine.

“It was rather pleasant,” she had not missed a beat, for she had found her confident demeanor once more. “The best I’ve slept in a while, actually.” A smile had crept across her lips as she washed a plate; Bulma was not lying in the least bit, for she had barely slept since the start of the Androids’ reign of terror. Initially, it was uncertain if she would live to see the next sun rise, though their destruction to West City was short; the entire world was in their hands to maim. The onset of insomnia reared its ugly head after the deaths of her friends; some merciful and quick, others slow and torturous.

His hand grasped the plate, though he did not pull it away from her hand; curious cerulean met with soft, alluring onyx. A matching smile had curved his lips. “I’m glad to know I have that kind of effect on you.”

“Gohan!” She hissed. “Trunks—“

“Is outside,” he finished her sentence with a soft chuckle. To her surprise, she turned to see the dinner table empty. A scoff erupted from her throat when she turned around to finish the dishes. This meeting was not going to end the way she wished if she did not hurry and finish this chore. Perhaps some fresh air would do her some good. “Maybe I should step out when we finish up. Do you have a place to sleep tonight?”

“Under the stars atop a large mountain.”

“Nonsense,” she thrust another dish into his waiting hand. “You always have a place here.” Damn her and her tongue.

“I _do_ sense a thunderstorm coming tonight.”

“Then stay! I am sure Trunks would love that.”

“But would his mother?”

The serving plate in her possession slipped from her fingers and fell into the water.

* * *

 

Bulma placed the long cigarette to her lips and watched Trunks and Gohan play-fight in what was once their courtyard; this did not take away the upbeat atmosphere that filled the air. The lights that remained had emitted in the large opening, though she was sitting in a shadow and out of their immediate sight. Her son truly adored him in all aspects, as though he was the brother that he never got to have. It was rare that she would witness such a moment; this world in which they lived was a much different place and the fight to survive was suffocating. It was good to have a break from the serious battle that the three were up against.

Just as Gohan had predicted, heavy clouds had rolled in and blanketed the breathtaking view of the stars. The bright flashes of lightning and the thunder’s loud rumbling served as a warning to seek shelter. Bulma had put her cigarette out in the plain ashtray beside her and stood. She would take advantage of this opportunity and sneak off for a quick shower before she would greet her bed for the night.

After the retreat to her bedroom, she released her long hair from the captive tie and her locks cascaded over her shoulders. It had been so long since she visited a salon and she missed her team of stylists terribly. She missed the smell of the shampoos and the chemicals. The conversations with the stylists, some light and others in-depth. West City Salon was a wonderful place where she was welcomed as a person and not as a billionaire. Though it was wonderful to be rich, she enjoyed living as a normal person from time to time. There were many things that she had yearned to experience again; many things she had taken for granted. She could not deny that another day of living was another day to be blessed.

The sober gaze in her reflection had stared back at her once she rubbed a heavy hand down her face. If the androids were to be beaten, how would the remainder of the scarce civilization begin to rebuild the world to the state it once was? Other survivors likely faced the same challenge as she; a daily struggle not to succumb to the powerful, crashing waves of eternal reminders of what, and who, had been lost. She would keep kicking to stay with the surface until there was nothing left.

Could Gohan truly be the ray of hope to the world? And her world?

His softened expression from earlier seeped into her thoughts. To know that they initiated a secret affair was shameful, for she was more than double his age. Meeting him as a child and watching him grow into such a handsome, charming, serious man had been an honor, indeed, yet she tainted those memories by doing what she did. She was filled with such horrid guilt, though in the depths of her soul, she was aware that she could never turn him away if he were to advance on her once again.

This was wrong.

She sighed in disgust at the escalating conflict between her emotion and logic. Bulma had finally found her way to her closet and retrieved a fresh pair of pajamas to wear for bed. The pattering of rain had loudened against her window and the wind roared; this storm was heavier than she had expected. Regardless, she needed a shower. She surfaced from her bedroom and casually strode to the bathroom.

“Good night, mom!” She heard her son call from behind her.

“Good night, Trunks,” her smile was warm in his direction.

* * *

 

The shower was hot and relaxing; it was one of the last few luxuries she had left. The thick steam of the heat delicately risen from the stall and she watched it in awe. The loud, clapping thunder from the outside had made her jump for only a moment. She used to love lying in bed and watch the storms that affected her area; this subtle pleasure was only a memory that had died alongside Vegeta. She inhaled a deep breath; the air was thick with moisture; it vaguely reminded her of the spa treatments she received on a regular basis in her previous life.

She wiped away the remnants of hot water that dripped over the skin of her delicate face. It was difficult not to grieve over such tragedies that would forever scar her life and the upbringing of her son. She had a day of relaxation; it was time to return to work on her time machine. The blasted thing had given her so many migraines. Her father had helped her construct the majority of the details. How she wished that he was still here, but she would learn to carry on this task on her own.

Bulma did not hear the bathroom door open and shut. Her hand had found the source of the shower’s water and had turned it off with ease. She turned to retrieve a towel that rested on the railing mounted close to the stall and she wiped the excess water from her body. She then wrapped herself with the large fabric and opened the large, glass door to make her escape to the bedroom. So much more steam had escaped with her from the stall and it risen and pooled into such beautiful designs towards the high ceiling. When her eyes had adjusted to the thick atmosphere, her vision revealed the silhouettes and shapes of his figure. Bulma had initially stepped back and slipped in a small puddle of bath water, only for him to suddenly catch her. An audible gasp had erupted from her throat once his handsome face was just inches from hers.

“Gohan…” His name was a mere whisper of her lips.

“You should be more careful,” he smiled.

“Perhaps I would not have to be as careful if you did not sneak up on me so much.” Another clap of thunder had jolted her in fright.

“You would be worried if I didn’t. Am I wrong?” He lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom.

“What in the hell are you doing!?”

His features were so confident and proud. “I’m taking you to bed.”

* * *

 

The towel around her petite body had dropped to the floor and his strong, callused hands rubbed every curve of her bare torso. Her cerulean stare lifted to his determined gaze before he leaned to bite her lip; He never failed to leave her breathless. Her eyes had closed at the gentle tug and their lips had finally embraced. Her arms stretched around his neck to pull him closer; every encounter of theirs was a true blessing, indeed. His heart pounded against her breast as he lifted her and collapsed onto the bed.

It was her expectation that he would immediately take her as he previously had, though he seemed too focused on their strong embrace. She did not mind this, as she enjoyed every aspect of him, even his unpredictable nature. She enjoyed the bond that he and Trunks shared, and even more so when she received the opportunities to witness it. His serious demeanor, the front that she would see the majority of the time, had hurt her immensely, as she was aware that the odds were stacked against him. How much time did she have left before he would meet the same fate as the others?

No. She could not think like this. Not at this time. She had to enjoy him.

When he parted with her mouth, she mirrored his previous movement my closing her teeth gently onto his bottom lip. His eyes, hooded and so soft, fixed onto hers. “I love you,” he had whispered.

Bulma was speechless for she shivered at the words, having wished that he would have never said a thing; how long had it been since she heard such a sincere confession? Gohan was never one to lie. She was ashamed to allow such a thing to happen; Trunks would never forgive her for the feelings they had shared. His hand crept between her bare breasts and finally stopped at her jawline before he had taken her for another kiss.

So much they had been through together. Through heaven. Through hell. In happiness and in pain. And Bulma would go through it all again if it had meant this moment. It was such a horrid shame that she returned those three subtle words.


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, that's better."

Finally, she had determined the exact coordinates into the near-complete time machine that her father had left behind. Though Bulma Briefs was rather intelligent, this invention had pushed the limits of what she knew. And she had no one to turn to; it was all up to her to determine the precision that this machine needed for her son's trip that he  _would_  make, whether he favored the idea or not; the fate of their world had depended on it. "Ugh, nice. Major improvements!"

She had never awakened so determined to complete a project. Though her arms were empty upon the faint sound of chirping birds that had greeted her morning, she risen from her bed and brewed a hot pot of coffee before she dug right into her work. It  _was_  possible to travel time, and she would spend her last breath in an attempt of perfecting all aspects of the machine.

Her heart was weighed down with a pooling despair. To know that her entire world would be saved would result in Vegeta returning to her arms. There was no denial that it was this she wanted, though times had clearly changed, for a brief affair had bloomed into something much more than she had bargained for. Gohan loved her. He fucking loved her. She wished that he would have never said those words, as she was given such a larger conflict. Bulma knew exactly what would happen if Vegeta discovered the events that occurred in the aftermath of his death. She shivered; she did not want to think about it. Thank Kami for this machine; she refused to think any more on the subject.

Faint footsteps had approached her; it would likely be Gohan sneaking up on her again. He was making the coping of her situations impossible. She had turned around to see her son with fear in his eyes; Gohan, bloody, beaten and near death, was slumped over his back. "Oh, my gosh!" She jumped from her chair. "What happened, Trunks!?"

"To be blunt… we got beat up." His voice was strained due to his mentor's weight.

His words had fallen onto her deaf ears as her complexion had paled. One of his perfectly sculpted arms were gone. "Oh, no! His arm! Get him to a bed, Trunks! Hurry!"

She quickly followed him to the only un-harmed room of their home. An addition to the basement, which served as a guest room where Trunks had assumed Gohan slept during his stay at the Capsule Corporation. With tears in her eyes, the journey down the stairs were fast. Her worst nightmare had come true. She opened the door for Trunk's entry and the lights immediately emitted through the room to reveal a small bed in the corner. "Lie him down! Hurry!" She placed her arms against Gohan's weight as Trunks slowly straightened his back and eased him to the comfortable, plush furniture. "Quick, Trunks. See if you can find Dr. Kikyo. Now!"

"Right!" And her son ran out of the room.

Tears spilled from her eyes as she quickly undid his bloody uniform. "Please, Gohan… please don't die," her plea cracked when she burst into sobs. His body, once so beautiful and chiseled to perfection, was destroyed permanently. It took every fiber of her logic to hold her emotions together long enough to retrieve a various bundle of medical instruments from the large cabinet across from the bed. After placing her items onto a paper towel atop the clean metal tray, she placed it to the night stand and pulled up a chair. Her hands were covered with a sterile pair of gloves as Bulma initiated the examination of his wounds. She would fix him at any cost.

Blood seeped from his arm's amputation and onto the sheet that she chose to drape over the wound; time was running out. She withdrew four syringes from their sterile packaging and filled them with liquid from a vial. She injected it into the nearby regions and repeated the process of numbing him before she continued to work with what little she had on hand. After the procedure was complete, she revealed the injury for the first time. She purposely held her arm to her mouth for a moment to stifle a cry. Those bastard androids. She could not take away any more precious time away from her lover, and she immediately began to withdraw what little debris that was in his wound.

"Mom, I cannot reach him!" she heard Trunks call to her.

"Keep trying!" She screamed in more hysteric that she realized.

Once she was sure that the wound was clear of any foreign material, she applied a cleaning solution. And finally, a thick bandage was applied in hopes of suppressing the bleeding. Her vision was blurred as she was witness to his critical condition. A gloved finger traced over the wound of his bloody cheek, where her lips once frequented his jawline just beneath what would become a scar. She would never be able to deny him, regardless of the extent of his wounds.  _If_ he lived.

She retrieved another vial of an anesthetic and one injury by one, she stitched Gohan into a man once more. After cleaning and bandaging the final wound that would eventually scar his cheek, she rested her head onto her arms of the nightstand and admired her work. Not only her work, but also his beauty. A beauty that she doubted she would ever see in another again in her lifetime. The loss of Gohan would be the final blow that would destroy her.

"I love you too…" she uttered before she collapsed into uncontrollable sobs.

* * *

Eventually, Trunks was able to track the location of Doctor Kikyo and he managed to visit the desolation of West City for Gohan's emergency surgery. With thanks to all of the Briefs Family's surgical equipment on hand to aid him, the procedure lasted around three hours and simply took place in his bed, as there were no other options of a more sterile environment. Bulma would never forget pacing repeatedly in her shattered living room and silently praying for a miracle. She caught the curious eye of her son, yet she did not care; she was long past that point. "He sustained a lot of damage from his battle with the Androids," Dr. Kikyo was solemn after he returned to Bulma and Trunks's location. "It is a miracle he survived after such an attack. You did a good job tending to him before I came, Bulma. He is lucky to have you two. I will return when he gains consciousness."

Bulma sniffled and nodded. "Thank you! Thank you so much, doctor. Please be careful!" The older gentleman gave his blessings and left without another word.

* * *

She eventually retired to her bedroom and simply stared at the ceiling. Her body and soul, once filled with a despair all too familiar, was numb; she felt nothing; she was simply a woman who had succumbed to a neutral void. The drastic turn of events had occurred so quickly, though she did not want to think. Eventually, she had found herself and turned to her side when her back ached with lack of movement. What a horrible day; to know that Gohan was lying in a devastating condition downstairs made her stomach turn in many different ways.

To her great surprise, the door slowly creaked open only to reveal him. Bulma blinked stupidly, as she believed she had fallen victim to a hallucination. She sat up and stared at him for a moment longer in a great debate to say something to confirm whether this was a figment of her imagination or a brutal reality. However, what words she could say had caught in her throat.

She was witness to his walk closer to her. "I am leaving to kill the bastard androids." She had never heard Gohan be so serious.

"What in the hell are you talking about? No, you are not!" This was indeed a reality. She stood and blocked the doorway. "You are going to go back to bed and stay there until you are healed! Do you not realize the extent of your injuries? You were almost killed!"

"And I am going to finish the job!" He shouted.

"Like hell you are! We just sewn you back together and I am not in the mood to do that again!"

Gohan sucked a large breath through his nostrils. "Do you not have faith in me?"

"Ohhh, no. You are not going to play that card with me, mister."

"It's a simple question."

Bulma's features softened; his velvet tone was returning. "Of course I do… But please, wait until you are healed and I can design a prosthetic ar—"

"I do not need another arm, Bulma."

She sighed; she could not believe that she was having this conversation. "Go back to bed. You just had surgery a few hours ago and you need to rest."

"Do I need to remind you how quick saiyans heal?"

_No shit, Sherlock._  Bulma's eyes widened as she watched Gohan sit on her bed and reclined to make himself comfortable. His face twisted with his grunts and painful moans at each movement he made. Suddenly feeling the need to help him, she lifted her blanket and draped it over his body; he was stubborn like every other saiyan she met. "And do I also need to remind you of Trunks's reaction if he would see you in his mother's bed?"

"He will survive." He grunted.

She bit her lip and shook her head. When she opened her eyes, she was breathless; the moon that shone through her window had lightened his features and enhanced his shadows in such a perfect way. His eyes were soft, yet intimidating with thanks to the moon's beauty, and solely on her. "Come here."

"What? Gohan, I—"

"Come on." He smiled. The reminder that she could never deny him had rung so loud, like a bell, inside of her thoughts. Damn him. She shut the door behind her and slowly returned, only to pause beside the large furniture. "I do not think this is a good idea." His only hand had tapped at the edge of the bed and she rubbed her forehead to distract herself from laughing. She finally obeyed and sunk her weight onto the bed and lied beside him. His fingers slowly found his way to her delicate face and fondled her bottom lip. "I will be stronger than ever before. You have my word."

"You can't talk like that right now… you need to focus on your recovery."

"Whatever you say, doctor," and he placed his lips on hers.

* * *

Gohan followed Bulma's wisdom for only three days before he was mentoring Trunks once more. After dinner was completed for the night, she stood by the window and watched these two. She knew all along of their secret; did Trunks suspect the same between herself and his handsome teacher? Regardless, Bulma did not feel that she needed to worry, for the trio had much more pressing matters on their hands.

Like the two worthless heaps of metal who cost Gohan a limb.

She knew that Gohan never stood the first chance with only one arm. Deep down, she believed that he did not believe so, either. If she could stall him until he is fully healed, she could gift him with the custom prosthetic that she is designing. This would greatly strengthen his odds of the androids' defeats exponentially; it was simply getting him to see that. Bulma journeyed a mission to never fail him. The fate of the only survivors of their friends and family heavily depended on it. They were more blessed than they realized, in consideration that Bulma possessed the expertise of developing artificial limbs for the citizens of West City, though they were rarely needed.

"Dinner is ready, you two!" She called out, only to witness the relieved stare of her son and an intense, hardened scowl from Gohan. She planned not to dine with them tonight, for she had to return to work on the prosthetic design. The time machine had entered her mind, though her desperate need for Gohan's survival outweighed all other urgencies.

Her return to the basement had seemingly gone unnoticed, but she could not have cared any less. She sat in front of the large computer and opened the programs she needed. This was not an average artificial limb she was developing; it was far more complex. The prosthetic needed to be of highest durability, while easy to install. There was no doubt that he would need surgery to have this specific piece implanted, which would require extra time to heal, and even more so for Gohan to adapt to the hardware. Her next challenge was to convince him to refrain from any battles. Oh Kami, she would trade this major obstacle for the time machine's bullshit any day.

It was common for her to lose track of time when she would become so submerged into her work. Under normal circumstances, this would be considered a good thing, yet the nature of this newest project had forced her to do nothing but think. She would never feel the ripples of his toughened muscles against her touch ever again. Gohan faced the ultimate loss, though she lost something on that day, too.

She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through her long hair in frustration. Life was not fair.

A hand had rested on her shoulder and she opened her eyes long enough to witness the source. Gohan was standing with a glare similar to the one she viewed before she had gotten to work. "Are you coming to bed?" She blinked, having the knowledge of her numbness returning to erase all emotion. Gohan looked to the computer and observed a large blueprint of what would be his new arm on display. His lips curved warmly. "You've worked hard today… let's get some rest." Her features were flat, as the beam of her light had left her beautiful, cerulean eyes, which had looked to him and forced his smile to fall. She finally stood and grasped his wrist to pull him out of the study. "Bulma?"

The two had passed Trunks, who had observed the awkward scene. "Mom? What are you-"

"It's time for bed, Trunks," she said as they had disappeared from his sight.

Through their house she had ushered him without any second thought. Gohan could have easily pulled his hand away and demanded an explanation, yet his curiosity far outweighed that possibility; he had to have known what she was up to. Finally, they had arrived at her bedroom and she shut the door once Gohan had entered. "What the hell? Are you okay?"

The room was dark as it always had been, though every expression of hers, dull and unreadable, barely shone from the moon's light that found its way to them. He was unsure of what to think of her sudden shift of behavior. He simply stood there and watched her slowly walk to him and stop just inches away. His eyebrows raised in her direction.

She did not break the stare into the two pools of onyx that deeply expressed concern. Suddenly, he felt the belt of his gi being tugged at and unraveled with ease. She reached in to undo the ties of his top and pushed the material off of his shoulders. Confusion had only escalated inside of Gohan's thoughts. Was she angry? Was she upset? He dared not touch her in return.

Her fingers entwined the elastic waistband of his pants and boxer shorts before she thrust the remainder of his clothing to his ankles without uttering the first word. He held his breath and slowly released it once her lips embraced his abdomen and hips hungrily. This had quickly hardened him, and soon, it had all made sense. Her kisses trailed to his thighs and he trembled with anticipation; He stuttered as though he wished to say something, yet nothing had passed his lips. And without warning, she took every inch of him into her mouth. "Holy shit, Bulma." His neck craned and he closed his eyes.

She twisted her wrist and furiously claimed him with her hand once she surfaced. His heavy breathing and soft moans had been a good sign. All of this time, he had focused solely on pleasing her; it was her turn to reveal what would eternally burn for him. She never knew if this would be her last time with this opportunity.  _I love you too._ And she had taken him in his entirety with a conscious effort to swirl her tongue around every inch.

Gohan was not exactly sure what had gotten into her, though he would never say the first complaint. Hell, he had no complaints. He bit his lip at her work. Pleasure had consumed him and he found himself with such an intense craving for more. Eventually, his fingers entangled with her hair and he joined in with the rhythm she created. "Ah, fuck," his body had throbbed with the pain of his injuries, which had begged him to sit. He could not do so, out of the worry that Bulma would change her mind if he would break away from this. His throat had hummed a moan of approval at the heat that enveloped his being.

Bulma had pulled herself away and shot a seductive stare towards the man she had in her hold. His face had finally appeared over his strong, bandaged chest, with beads of sweat developing above his brows and his lips parted in surprise. "What has gotten into you?"

"Lay down."

He immediately had the will to obey any instruction that she had given him. As he allowed his shoulders to recline against the large headboard, his features flinched at the cries of his wounds. He refused any sort of pain relief, as he was much stronger than that. Instead, his attention focused on Bulma's exposure of her beautiful body as she quickly escaped from her clothes and tossed them to the floor. His eyes had popped open at her determination when he watched her crawl to him, where she taken him into a passionate kiss that ended with the sucking of his bottom lip. The center of him had throbbed at this, as he was never aware that Bulma could possess a dominance that could be so addicting. Why hadn't he let her take control before?

She had nestled her weight between his legs and had taken every stiff inch into her mouth again and again. He breathed another sigh of relief when his eyes closed. His hand entwined with her long, blue locks; oh, how he loved this woman. She would never know how much she eased this irrepressible ache that he would never be able to fix. Bulma made him forget that his time was clearly running short. He was aware that he had a death sentence if he would face the Androids again, but he had to try. And he would. There was no time to waste on this prosthetic arm that Bulma was designing. People continued to die each day at the hands of these monsters, and the world needed as many as possible if they wished to build the world as it was again. If his death would stall the Androids long enough for residents to scurry to safety, his job would be done.

His hips arched against her body and had joined in with her rhythmic work.  _As long as I am here, you will always be safe._ He would fulfill this promise, even if it meant the ending of his life. A new grief, long and with many thorns, had twisted around his heart and tightened into a miserable suffocation. Is this what love truly felt like? He swallowed and closed his eyes; the odds have never been so against him.

"Keep going." he murmured.

Though their lovemaking was a battleground for domination, it would always be an experience fit for the Gods. It would be her that he would remember when he would take his final breath. The beautiful woman, with the messy blue hair that bucked wildly atop his hips and bit her lip as she had neared her climax. The sweet cries of her ecstasy had filled his ears when he witnessed her energy diminishing. He cupped the small of her back with his arm and he pressed Bulma to her back before he filled her again with a much quicker pace, as he, too, was near his end.

"Gohan!" She breathed, for she was overwhelmed with her climax. Her body trembled and quivered beneath him as the sound of his fingernails dug into her bed beside her had filled her ears. His breathing ceased when he had reached his peak and he spilled himself into her. Gohan's eyes squeezed and his lips parted at the incredible feeling that filled him.

"I love you too…" She whispered after he had came. His squeezed eyes opened instantly and had burned for the beautiful woman that he shared this pleasure with. "Bulma…" The corners of his mouth had curved into a victorious smile when he had taken her in for a final, passionate kiss.

They had lied momentarily and silently reminisced about their wonderful affair. His fingers had ran through her silk hair as she had fallen asleep for the night. He would not allow the exhaustion to overtake him; he had business to finish.


	4. Chapter 4

Bulma had slept much later than usual on that fateful day, as the clouds, heavy with rain, had poured its weather onto the region and extended her slumber. Once she had awakened, her arms were empty and cold. When the realization of Gohan’s absence had been comprehended, she jolted quickly into a sitting position in a panic. She turned to see the storm ruthlessly unleashing its fury against her window.   
“No…” Her stomach had sunk with the weight of a horrible feeling that only continued to fill her. She rushed to get dressed and did a thorough search of what was left of her home. “No, no, no!” Gohan and Trunks were both gone, which only fueled her rising panic. Surely, he would not have taken her son to train during this hellacious thunderstorm.

She had jumped into her car and sped to the various locations Gohan admitted they had trained, though all areas were bare and lacked any sign of life. The drive through the remainder of the city was just as quiet and did not appear to have any recent attacks from the Androids; this had seemed to be a good sign, though this did not answer the question of their whereabouts. Once her view had witnessed the roaring Oceanside close to the Capsule Corporation, the uneasy feeling had only grew. Never had she been so afraid for them.

Upon the return to her home, she attempted to dig her conscience deep into a romance novel, yet all her thoughts were occupied with the only two she had left. Eventually she had tossed the book aside and watched it slide across the coffee table and fall onto the floor. Just as the book made its landing, the ground had shook beneath her and the walls had trembled. A loud scream had uttered from her throat as she leapt to her feet and looked about; this could be either an earthquake or … she had gulped, for she did not want to finish that thought.

She had grown confused, as the residence would stop shaking momentarily but would continue for a few more seconds. Finally, Bulma had reached the window and saw a beautiful, glowing light just yards away. “Gohan!” She did not waste time for a jacket and simply ran out into the rain, demanding to know where her son was. The drops had soaked her again, much more quickly than before, as she charged across the yard. Her eyes had come into focus and she determined that this was her son. Her heart stopped at this sight, as his blood-curdling screams drowned the deafening thunder. “Trunks!?” She watched his fists freeze mid-air; _he_ was the cause of the rumbling, as he repeatedly slammed the earth below with his fists. “You did it! You’re a super saiyan!”

His face, covered with rain and tears, had lifted to meet her gaze. She inhaled a shaking breath as she had taken a quick look for Gohan in their immediate surroundings. “Gohan… Where is…?”

“They…” His voice squeaked as he had faced the ground and burst into uncontrollable sobs. “He’s dead! They killed him! They killed him, mom!”

The anchor which was tied to Bulma’s heart had fallen to her feet. Tears had welled in her eyes and delicately blended in with the large rain drops. She took two steps back from her son and had stared at him helplessly. “Gohan…” Her son did not hear her whisper, for he only cried, screamed and wailed inconsolably. In a desperate attempt to suppress her grief, she had reached to lift him from the ground, only to be shoved away. “No!”

“Trunks, please come inside…” She begged, only to watch him power up and fly away from her line of sight. “Come back! … Please…”

Bulma’s knees buckled from beneath her and her legs were soaked from the wet ground. All hope was gone, for the world’s only savior had left this earth. Her eyes, drowned with many tears of grief, had lifted to witness the dark clouds continue their wrath over West City. Just beyond those heavy, threatening clouds and clear sky littered with stars was her beloved; far enough where he could never wipe her tears away again. Her vocal cords exercised vigorously as she screamed his name towards the heavens. If he would have allowed himself a little more time to heal, the prosthetic would have greatly increased his odds and he would still be with them.

She loved. She lost. And she was broken beyond repair.

* * *

 

She had not eaten or slept since she learned of the news of Gohan’s death… Four days ago.

Bulma and Trunks had only spoken a handful of words to one another when he finally made his return, bloody and bruised from the release of his new anger against the nature. She chose not to keep close tabs on him as he wished for his privacy to cope in his own way. Saiyans were much different with grief in comparison to the average human being. For four days she was buried in her resumed mission to complete the time machine. She had never been so thankful for the escalating workload that piled atop her.

She would do this to save the world. To save her son. Herself. And everyone she loved. Her mission had taken an alternate route, for her previous self had done nothing to deserve the agony that was forced upon her. She loved all of her lovers enough to save them from their demise; under normal circumstances, their deaths were inevitable. But she was Bulma Briefs, and she would be damned if she was going to stand by and allow this miserable chapter of history repeat itself once again.

She downed another large mug filled with coffee and poured herself another cup in victory. Her time machine was almost ready. The liquid had burned all the way down, though she was un-phased; Bulma could have swallowed a gallon of the hottest lava and would only continue to remain numb as it would burn her alive.

When Gohan died, a large piece of her had died as well. Her dreams. Any glimmer of hope that dimmed into the blackened tunnel that she would forever remain entrapped in. She was aware that he heard her cries and her begs for him to return, yet there was nothing he could do. The reunion between him, his father and lost friends must have been the utmost happiest of times since the Androids’ apocalypse started.

The final screw had been tightened and she stepped back to admire her work. It was finally completed. Her hand grasped a towel and embraced the skin of her hairline that beaded in sweat. Footsteps echoed down the stairs yet she paid no mind to this. Trunks would finally come to talk to her after four days of silence. “Nice place,” a smooth, alluring voice had called out. “I think your roof might have a leak, though.”

Her eyebrows had lowered. Who in the hell was this? When she turned to see the source of the voice, the towel slipped from her fingers. Two individuals, similar in size and with eyes of the coldest blue had emitted from the doorway, staring solely on her. When the realization had hit Bulma that the Androids had backed her into a corner with no escape, a strong, intense wave of fear had encased her form and paralyzed her from where she stood. She could not move, speak or even blink.

“I think we’re slipping, Seventeen. We actually missed one.” Eighteen’s musical laugh filled the large room.

“Hmm…” He did not seem amused at his sister’s humor. “I guess we did.”

Bulma had started to hyperventilate uncontrollably in the attempt to catch her breath, while her chest had suddenly cursed her with an immense amount of pain. Her numb hand tightly gripped her shirt; this new pain was unbearable and beyond any words. Her fear was too much for her. “No…” she choked out.

Eighteen cocked an eyebrow in Bulma’s direction, who could not run even if she wanted to. “Looks like our very presence is killing the little old lady. We’re not that scary, are we, miss Briefs?”

The blonde’s words had distorted as they entered Bulma’s ears. The very essence of her existence was failing her in such a quick, drastic amount of time and nothing could be done to prevent this. Her skin was drenched in sweat and trembled with her muscles and bones. Her time, too, was running out.

“Let’s help her out, shall we, Eighteen?” She had come face to face with a bright yellow orb of energy that had developed in Seventeen’s palm.

The two methods of her inevitable death had raced to claim her. The suffocating squeeze of her heart had only tightened and she closed her eyes, having accepted her fate that would claim her much earlier than she wished it would come. _I’m so sorry, Trunks!_ Her mind had screamed. _Please save the past!_

It was then that so many images from memories overwhelmed her. The very first time she met Goku. The arrival of the Saiyans and learning of Goku’s heritage. Her heart-dropping journey with Krillin and Gohan to Namek. Meeting Vegeta for the first time and his animalistic belief that her bad temper was her mating call to him. The first time that she succumbed to the once love-less, yet incredible affair that only continued. The moment that she had discovered of her pregnancy in her personal bathroom just minutes after she discovered that he had taken off to another planet in her father’s space pod to train. Hearing his little huff when Vegeta had learned of ‘the kid’, thus spending the majority of her pregnancy alone. The doctor’s loud announcement, ‘ _it’s a boy!’,_ followed by her new son’s loud cry when he was born only at the witness of the medical team, her parents and herself in the operating room. Trunks’s first smile shortly just a week after his birth. Constantly shielding him despite celebrating his victories during the apocalypse. Falling so hard for Gohan and desperately shielding her own feelings at her discovery that he was a fully-grown man.

Tears streamed down her face, knowing that she was merely becoming a memory to her son the way his loved ones had. _Forgive me, Trunks._

“Get up from there. You look ridiculous.”

It was then that Bulma was sure her heart stopped. When her eyes opened, Gohan’s beautiful, scar free body had come into her view. His arm was also returned! Through him, she could see that the androids had frozen solid as if time had stopped. Eighteen was in the midst of a laugh and Seventeen, who appeared more focused and less amused, had a blast of energy that had extended to her direction, just inches away from where Gohan had stood with his hand extended. Once more, she had taken her transparent hand into his and she stood with him.

“Gohan…” she whispered.

To her surprise, she looked to her feet and found herself standing through her human body, which was collapsed onto the floor. Her eyes were wide open with tears still continuing to stain her cheeks. A single tear drop was in the process of leaving her eye and it had frozen during its journey to the hardwood floor. The apocalyptic tragedy had suddenly turned into a sci-fi movie.

“Gohan!” She did not care, for she swung her body towards his hold and he caught her with ease. His lips repeatedly pressed against her hairline while he returned the tightened affection around her body just as she did him.

“Come. We must go.”

When he levitated beyond her, she had followed him as though she had flown her entire life. Apparently, it was a gift that had come naturally following her death. Though she deeply wished to cry for her son, she could not. All sadness had been wiped away and was only replaced with a beautiful peace. The constant worries had no longer plagued her or threatened to change her onto a madwoman. She was overcome with a permanent relief.

Her flight was not interrupted by the ceiling and she left her home for the final time. Her eyes scanned the planet Earth for a final time. Two squirrels, completely still and frozen, had held acorns atop the large tree beside the Capsule Corporation, as a blue bird was paused while sweeping past them. “Has the world ended?” She asked stupidly.

“Time is only frozen in our perspective until we reach the others,” He had stopped long enough for Bulma to join his side. “The heavens are so beautiful, Bulma. Many await your arrival.”

“Oh, Gohan…” She smiled. He pressed his palms to her back as he swooped in for a passionate kiss. With such thrill and happiness, she had returned this beautiful affection as they continued to levitate to their destination; there would be no greater reunion than her and Gohan, who was worth every ache and pain of her grief. She was ready to spend the remainder of eternity with him.

Her savior.

 

* * *

 

** The End **


End file.
